Justice
by x3eireclare93
Summary: A moral crisis presents itself to Edmund after being the witness to a murder. Now he must judge his gravest case yet with the judgments of those close to him infringing upon his sense of duty.Set during the Golden Age, five years after LWW.
1. Chapter 1

"_Justice is conscience, not a personal conscience but the conscience of the whole of humanity. Those who clearly recognize the voice of their own conscience usually recognize also the voice of justice"_

--Alexander Solzhenitsyn

King Edmund the Just exited his courtroom with an overwhelming feeling of peace and finality punctuating each step. His court transcripter, a faun by the name of Rorim, hastily drew the velvet, royal blue curtains across the glass windows in the diligent, specific way that fauns do; Edmund had come to the realization in his past five years at Cair Paravel that fauns are extremely orderly (sometimes to the point of compulsion) and attentive creatures. Edmund had merely gathered his documents and strode from the room upon closing the case, eager to take advantage the rest of the summer evening with his horse and friend, Philip. His cases had been few and far between lately (they often seemed to slow down in the summer); his last one had been a land dispute between two dwarf clans. Usually small land disputes wouldn't have been taken to the isolated court, but merely resolved by him and his four siblings, and rather swiftly, he thought, as they had grown into their monarchical positions comfortably in their first five years. This settlement, however, had been quite involved, especially since he had quite a ways to go in learning the cultural and historical aspects of each dwarf clan, and dwarf customs had factored so heavily into the case. He thought he had solved it quite amicably, even earning a few words of praise from each side. He was pleased; his verdicts usually went over well with the general public, but it wouldn't have been the first time he had been impugned by angry Narnians with certain special interests in the case. He chose not to think about those times. Each courtly decision was greatly deliberated over, sometimes delivered after nights of lost sleep and with dark bags settling under his eyes. As much as he hated delivering an unpopular judgment, he hadn't regretted a single one so far. Aslan had breathed upon him when he decided to become a judge and endowed him with the confidence to display mercy and justice to his subjects, such as he received from the King of Kings himself. It seemed fitting, he thought, that the reformed traitor give Aslan's forgiveness to those who had sinned.

"Ed!" He heard his brother calling to him as he exited the court chambers. He was startled out of his thoughts by the jovial exclamation. He sighed inwardly. What he wouldn't have given for a quiet ride with Philip. Peter thudded down the stone corridor towards him.

"Ed, wake up!" His flushed face appeared in front of Edmund, cutting of his escape attempt.

"Hey, Pete. Been hanging around with Lucy lately?" he asked wryly.

"More like avoiding her. I swear to Aslan, we need to get some food in that girl soon or we'll all go insane _with_ her," he huffed. Lucy had recently begun a three day fast, drinking only water, and eating small amounts of bread in commemoration of the five year anniversary of their coronation and official end of the White Witch's reign. She said it was to cleanse herself as she thought of Aslan's blessing upon them. She didn't mention his sacrifice in place of Edmund, but he knew she was thinking of it. While he was eternally grateful to Him, Edmund often tried to keep his mind away from that moment in his lifetime. It often crept into his nightmares, and dealing with it at night was more than enough than to have torturing thoughts during the day.

"She's _cleansing_, Peter," he replied sardonically.

"I really don't understand how this helps her grow closer to Aslan. If I was her, I'd be thinking about food all the time."

"That's _all_ you think about, Pete," Edmund teased, and his brother elbowed him lightly in the arm.

"So who won, Mountains or Reds?"

"You know, it's a bit more complicated than that. Give me some credit at least; I'm not judging a jousting match."

"Oh, don't worry, Ed. I fully understand the _laborious_ process it is to divide two identical pieces of land between two nearly identical dwarf tribes."

"Idiot," Edmund muttered, smirking. Suddenly, the two brothers heard quick footsteps and a muffled bickering that was steadily growing closer. Edmund felt Peter pull him into the nearest chamber and peered out an opening in the door at his quarrelling sisters.

"You can't get me to eat, Susan! I don't care if I look too thin for suitors because I'm not seeing any for the next day and a half. And there are _much_ more important things that should be weighing on our minds, don't you think?! Do you hear me, Su?"

"Oh, but Lucy, Prince Nol is here from Archenland, and he is ever such the sweetheart. _Please_, Lu, just a bite. You wouldn't want to make a bad impression, would you?"

"Susan, I'm _cleansing_."

"Yes, I know, but—"

"Cleansing!" Lucy shrieked and stormed off down the corridor. Her normally cheerful disposition was gone in lieu of her fast, and they had avoided her all day. She would be back to normal soon enough. But for now, it seemed the Pevensie brothers had resorted to hiding in bathing chambers to escape the wrath of their younger sister. A few puzzled cats peered up at the two stricken monarchs from the marble baths, and the young kings quickly exited in embarrassment, bursting into laughter as they spilled back into the corridor.

"Come on, brother, take a break from your duties for a little while. We'll get in a little sword practice and surprise Oreius tomorrow." Peter slung an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"I was going on a break from my duties. Just with someone decidedly less sword-happy," Ed smirked.

"Surely not a naiad, Ed?" Peter asked with a smirk. Edmund blushed.

"'_When_ I'm older,' what a load of toss," he grumbled to his brother. "I'm older now. I suppose I'm a bit…intimidating to them?"

"You go on thinking that, Ed," Peter laughed in response. His brother scowled goodnaturedly back.

"Well, I was going to go for a ride with Philip and get away from you three. I can't get peace and quiet anywhere. And Lucy's only made it worse."

"You're turning into an old man, Ed. You've got to lighten up or you'll turn into Oreius soon," he said, the last part in a slightly lower voice in an irrational fear of his omniscient trainer hearing the jab.

"Hmm, how old do you reckon Oreius is, anyway?" Ed asked amusedly. He was the most physically fit centaur they had ever met, always ready for a sparring match, but his mind was that of an experienced and wise creature.

"Who knows?" Peter laughed. And with that, the two brothers ventured outside into the breezy Narnian air.


	2. Chapter 2

_Clang._

The two kings' swords met in mid-air as they maneuvered themselves around each other in a battle for dominance. They were hard pressed to find it these days. When Edmund had turned fifteen last year, he'd gone through a massive growth spurt. Now he could no longer be hindered by size when competing against his older brother, although there would always be a size discrepancy between the two Sons of Adam and their towering centaur trainer.

Peter broke the hold they had on each other first, snapping Edmund's wrist back with a swing of his sword, and began fighting offensively. Each boy could feel the match was coming to a climax, and soon enough, Edmund was thrown on his back by the brunt force of Peter's swordplay. The small crowd that had gathered on the training grounds gave the young kings their due praise, and dissolved into chatter about the spectacle they'd just seen.

Oreius nodded to the two brothers and handed Edmund a second sword to practice with Cryptos, a very quiet centaur who preferred to show his battle prowess rather than speak of it. Double swords were the younger king's specialty. He couldn't stand the dead weight of a shield in the heat of battle, although sometimes it was ordered by Peter in his fits of overprotectiveness. Peter followed suit and took a defensive battle stance in front of Oreius. The origins of the legendary battles that would be described in great vividity years later were occurring right in front of their eyes.

An hour later, Peter and Edmund sat in exhaustion in the royal dining hall, glumly contemplating the grooves and ridges that riddled the wooden table. It had been a particularly rigorous training session, and when Oreius had seen that his two young students were up to the challenge, he merely made their tasks all the more difficult.

"You don't suppose there's a twin cordial to Lucy's healing potion, Pete? One that supplies unlimited strength to survive the hells of Oreius's training sessions?" Edmund asked with his face planted firmly in the darkness of his folded arms. The nineteen year old merely grunted from the table, in much the same position as his younger brother.

"Oh, wake up, you two," Susan said in a scandalized tone. It also had the faint notes of nagging, which only made the two boys groan more. "Your subjects are starting to stare." She looked sideways at the numerous creatures filing in and out of the Dining Hall. A small party of fauns had stopped to look inquisitively at their incapacitated kings, wondering if they should do something about it, no doubt. Perhaps soak them in another bath. Edmund heard a faint snore and immediately jerked his head up from the table. Susan was glaring at him reproachfully, and he was able to guess very accurately at the snoring culprit. Peter, on the other hand, was silently sleeping at the head of the table, and Edmund gave him a light tap on the back of the head.

"Mmph?" Peter awoke with a light trail of drool trailing from chin to sleeve. He hastily wiped it away and averted his gaze from Susan's looks of reproval. Lucy was nowhere to be found, no doubt sneaking nibbles of bread from the Cair's kitchen like a common mouse. The Narnian mice were much more sophisticated, after all. Their older sister sighed exasperatedly.

"Your Majesty?" An orange cat appeared at Susan's feet, bowing in a very feline way as he showed his respect for the Gentle Queen. Jarren, Edmund thought his name was. He'd seen him in the healers' quarters before. Susan seemed to revert as easily as breathing back into her gentle demeanor. She put a soft hand on the cat's head.

"Yes, my dear Jarren?"

"Your royal sister asked me to send for you. It seems…well, from what she could tell me from the other side of the door, that Queen Lucy is having a…wardrobe malfunction, shall we call it? She sounded distraught. Her Majesty has not been herself lately. Is there something wrong? Anything I can do for Your Majesties…" Susan shook head.

"No, no, not to worry, Jarren. My dear sister's clothes simply do not fit her at the moment, as she is being a stubborn little girl…" Susan walked off with the cat, muttering about Lucy's lack of food and future marriage proposals. Edmund looked at Peter, realizing their chance to escape.

"Perhaps, we should wrap this up, dear brother?" Edmund asked with a smirk.

"Gladly," Peter groaned.

Peter made his way up to their bedchambers, while Edmund walked to the barn, seeking some time with Philip. As the horse and his boy made their way through the serene Narnian forest, they fell into easy conversation. The young king was more shocked than anyone that his best friend, aside from his older brother, would turn out to be a Talking Horse. But all the same, they were a match made in heaven, as Lucy often teased. They were both wonderful listeners, the best one could find, and each allowed the other to talk himself out, if the occasion to do so should arise.

"I was talking about it with Alia the other day, and she seemed to think—"

"Alia?" Edmund cut off Philip in surprised amusement. Edmund could feel Philip grumble ripple through his body below him at his light tease.

"Yes, Alia. She is a fellow Talking Horse."

"And a female," Ed supplied drolly. "One you seem to be spending an awful lot of time with lately."

"I really don't think this is funny, Edmund."

"No. You're not in my position, though. Being a bystander is much more amusing, you see."

"Do you want me to bring up the naiad disaster, King Edmund?" Edmund gave a similar grumble.

"No," he said pointedly. "And don't call me that."

"Sorry, Edmund. I forget sometimes. Excuse an old horse once in a while." Edmund chuckled.

"You're not old. You're a spry young horse who leads me through battle and back. And you've got a girlfriend," Edmund laughed.

"_You're_ the one at _my_ mercy, human." And he bucked Edmund lightly to prove his point.

"Alright, you've made your point," Edmund said as he righted himself on Philip's chestnut back. "Go on about what you think I did wrong in the dwarf settlement."

"Actually, I don't think you did anything wrong."

"Really?" It was a rare moment when his friend was so sincere. He was merely waiting for the punchline.

"I think you have grown into a fine judge, Edmund. And we are all privileged to serve such a man." Edmund was taken aback at the praise Philip was showering on him. He was touched by the love and forgiveness the Narnians had bestowed on him since becoming their Just King.

"Man?" Edmund asked amusedly. Philip often teased him about his 'tender' age.

"Yes," Philip replied. He had never heard such unwavering confidence from his friend.


	3. Chapter 3

It was beginning to grow dark, and Edmund feared he had exhausted Philip with their endless conversation, so he suggested they turn in for the night, and they began to trot through the dark woods and whispering trees. He had always felt safe in the Narnian forest, and yet as the sky turned sable, the foliage gave off a decidedly eerie feeling, and he was aching to arrive back at the Cair as soon as possible. Of course, the kings and queens were never truly safe. Even under the protection of the castle and those who served them, assassination attempts had been made and invasions had been carried out on the grounds of their beloved home. They had stopped at nothing to protect it. As Peter always reminded him before they surged into battle, the Narnians pledged their allegiance them. But they, the four monarchs, served Narnia, unfailing and eternal in their duties. Edmund supposed his justice system was a way of fighting for his country, as well. Keeping peace on the home front and among his citizens.

A light crackle on his leather boots, and Edmund noticed it had started to rain, spilling in between the murmuring trees. The drizzle soon turned into a deluge, and Philip picked up his pace. Edmund's raven black hair plastered itself to his forehead, and his vision was clouded by raindrops. In his sudden and irrational fear of the forest, he jumped at the first noise of thunder. The horse looked back at him concernedly. He galloped faster.

Edmund was beginning to hear more than just thunder. Were those footsteps behind him? And were those pawprints in the mud? He suddenly leaned forward into Philip's neck, silently urging him on. The rain was a harbinger of something; he could feel it in his bones. He wasn't sure what sort of omen was following them, but he didn't want to find out. Some voice in the back of his mind told him that it wasn't just his imagination. Whether it was the voice of Aslan or his own, he couldn't be sure. The soft, wispy voices of the trees seemed to come to an abrupt stop. Maybe that's why he was able to hear those at the back of his head somehow.

A blood-curdling scream resonated in the air. It hung there. Edmund heard it echo in his head before he yelled orders to Philip turn around.

"Edmund, you are not armed! I will not allow you to—"

"As your king and…" Edmund roared, and there was no more than needed to be said. Philip knew the rest of the statement, and that he was powerless after it was uttered. Edmund's heart was beating faster than a rabbit that had run himself to death. They approached a clearing. There lay a sight Edmund would be haunted by for years to come. _To sleep, perchance to dream…_ He could never dream up something like this.

A gray wolf hovered over a centauress. She was bleeding from the jugular, and it was clear that she was in her last moments of life. Her glassy, chocolate brown eyes stared up into nothingness as she flickered away. The wolf, breathing heavily, removed himself from the gash in the side of her neck and hung his head, high pitched whines coming from his throat. Edmund dismounted; his loyal friend pinned the wolf to the ground with his weight advantage, while the teen approached the dread sight. All remaining sound fled from his ears as he looked down at her. He saw the wavy auburn hair that reminded him of Lucy. The tanned brown skin that reminded him of Oreius. With shaking fingers, he reached toward her pulse point and found she was no more. He looked into her eyes once more, before brushing them closed and collapsing to the ground. Somewhere in his inspection had come the realization. He knew this centauress. Her name was Aoife. And she was Cryptos's pregnant wife. He looked back at the struggling pair behind him after a while. It seemed only Philip was initiating the struggle. The wolf made no attempt to fight back. His eyes looked like those of the creature he had just killed, but also tinged with fear. He should be fearful, Edmund thought murderously.

"Bring reinforcements," he said in an emotionless voice. "Make sure Cryptos isn't one of them. He doesn't need to find out this way." Edmund thought Philip might have realized that the wolf was too much in shock to attack him because he nodded and sped off toward the Cair. Edmund ignored the other breathing creature in the clearing and focused his attention on Oona. He swiped her hair away from her face and attempted to staunch the flow of cold blood. He removed his tunic and prevented the blood from marring her face with the fabric. He smoothed her dressed down and settled for holding her frozen hand in his as help approached. Edmund looked up at the sky and noted that it had stopped raining.

"ED!" The young king was broken from his reverie at his brother's shout. His head snapped around and found Peter's face only inches from his own. Sound began rushing into his ears once more, and he felt tainted at having witnessed this spectacle. Peter dragged him upwards and away from the scene as a cry of anguish permeated the woods. The two youths had never heard such intense emotion from their teacher. Oreius touched the face of his friend's wife, and they heard no more. The centaur went stony-faced soon after. His troops were not to see him cry. Not in battle, and not ever. The undertones of the trees began flooding the forest again. Peter was grasping his shoulders, shaking him.

"ED! Do you hear me? Come on, Edmund, please talk to me," Peter said in a tearful voice. The younger king looked blankly into his brother's eyes. He was shaking, going into shock, he heard Philip tell Peter. He felt weak as he watched Oreius slowly carry Aoife's dead body back to the Cair. His gaze went from Oreius back to Peter. His blue eyes seemed darker that night, penetrating. He felt his defenses falling down, and his knees buckled. A familiar shout rung out. Then darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

"Edmund?" Lucy's soft voice floated through. His eyes fluttered open and saw the blurry outlines of his two sisters standing over him, and well as the golden face Peter hovering on his other side.

"Hullo," he replied in a robust tone, or at least what he thought sounded robust. His unused voice cracked miserably, and Lucy held a glass of wine to his lips. He noticed she had a joyful flush back in her face and guessed that her abstemious three days had been cut short by their older sister. He was back in his and Peter's bedchambers, and his face burned with the thought that he had had to be carried up to his room, perhaps even by his brother.

"How are you feeling, Ed?" Peter asked gruffly and laid a warm hand on his brother's forehead. His siblings sounded as though they'd been crying, Lucy especially.

"I'm fine," he replied irritably, remembering the events of the previous night. It was morning, but the birds weren't heralding their songs at his window. Everything was silent, as it had been when he'd looked death in the face last night. Everything had seemed so raw. There was much more time to absorb everything making it much different and more personal than the battles he had been in. He propped himself up and walked over to the open window that overlooked the grounds of Cair Paravel. Creatures of all kinds were gathered in groups, some crying, others were speaking in ominous hushed tones. Black velvet cast a pall on the west side of the castle, a sign of mourning.

"How is Cryptos?" he asked finally. Peter's expression clenched.

"Not well. He won't show it, but everyone can tell how devastated he is. It's killing him, I think." Edmund nodded gravely. Susan approached him cautiously and guided him to a soft chair in a corner of the room.

"The funeral services are tomorrow. I'm going to speak on the monarchy's behalf," she said, and her eyes filled with tears. She and Aoife had been very close, Edmund recalled. She was a seamstress, and the two often spent hours planning royal attire, or Susan being taught the tricks of the trade by the centauress. "She was…a great friend," and she burst into tears, burying her face in Peter's chest, enveloped by his strong grip.

"Are you alright, Edmund?" he was asked a second time by Lucy. Her face was splotched with red patches; it was evident that she had been crying just as much as her sister. While Lucy hadn't know Aoife as well as Susan, she possessedd the most compassionate heart out of all four of them and often cried over the tragedies that befell all creatures, whether she knew them or not. Edmund fondly remembered he had found her doubled up over a history book in the library after reading of a particularly devastating battle that had happened well over a hundred years past. She continually surprised him with her capacity to love all creatures.

"Don't worry about me, Lu. It's Cryptos we've got to help."

"I…I've been praying for him. But I don't know if anyone but Aslan can help him, Edmund," she whispered in a wavering voice as Susan's cries flew over her words. "He looked _awful_, Ed." Edmund hugged her as well before walking over to Peter who was now sitting next to a placated Susan on his bed.

"The wolf?"

"Taken under jurisdiction of the crown."

"Give me a report, Peter. What happened while I was out?" Peter shook his bowed head slowly. His expression was pensive.

"There was no struggle. After Oreius carried Aoife away, he went quietly." Edmund nodded, his eyebrows contracting. He supposed he was expecting it. There had been something so…defeated about the creature. As if he had done his one sinful deed in life and then simply bowed his head in submission. He hadn't been afraid of the wolf; there was an absolute absence of malice that was in his expression after he had stepped away from his victim. But he was fearful, and his fear would condemn him.

"Ed…"

"Hm?"

"You'll have to sentence him," Peter said warily. Edmund swallowed. He didn't want to have to relive the scene in the forest in court as well. But he knew what was required of him as Supreme Judge of Narnia.

"I know."

Edmund and Peter were clad head to toe in black dress tunics. They joined the rest of the family in their Lucy's bedchambers, where both Lucy and Susan were dressed in forest green dresses in honor of Aoife. It was her favorite fabric, as Susan had informed them as she tamed Lucy's auburn hair in front of the mirror.

"I wonder if they're following," Edmund swallowed. "…a conventional centaurian funeral today?" Centaurs followed a custom of public cremation as funereal rites, and the youngest king had no desire to see any more dead bodies, especially burning ones, no matter how selfish the thought may be. His question hung in the air unanswered as Lucy rose from her chair and the four siblings grimly walked out into the corridor. In lieu of the recent murder of the beloved centauress, security had been increased significantly for the four kings and queens, and they were enshrouded on the short walk to the Great Hall by an extensive escort.

The Hall had been transformed from its usually joyous appearance into a grave, mournful area surrounded by grief. The red curtains had been changed to black, although still retaining the golden outline of the Great Lion on them, and the Hall was now filled with chairs, four of which were designated at the front for Narnia's monarchs. Edmund felt fear freeze his limbs as he realized that they would have front row center seats for the cremation. He swallowed the apprehension in remembrance of Cryptos' profound loss.

Oreius nodded stonily at them as they approached. Edmund watched Peter reciprocate the solemn greeting to their general, but his own face remained frozen; he couldn't work himself up to express any sort of gesture, really, verbal or otherwise. He felt Peter's arm gripping his shoulders and steering him further towards the front. As he sat down, he felt the most unkingly and childish urge to turn his head around and scan his eyes curiously over the hundreds of spectators paying their respects behind him. Countless faces of grief stared back at him; Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, Jarren the cat, fauns, satyrs, dryads, naiads, centaurs, and hundreds more were in attendance. It made him feel very small.

"Peter?" Edmund whispered. He directed his attention towards his brother, the sea-blue eyes meeting his own dark brown with a penetrating gaze. He didn't know exactly what he wanted to say to Peter, but his brother seemed to understand nevertheless.

"I'm here, Ed," he said determinedly, tightening his grasp across the younger's shoulders. Edmund bowed his head and studied the wrinkles in his tunic. A hush flew over the occupants of the Hall, and he sensed that Cryptos had entered, so he wrenched his head up against its own will to watch the spectacle. Each creature rose to pay respect to the bereaved spouse and father, bowing their heads as the centaur passed. The Pevensies followed suit and remained standing as the body of Aoife was slowly carried out on a marble slab by her dark-skinned family members. Edmund had a chilling feeling of familiarity steal over him, as he remembered vaguely that he thought he had been to a ceremony similar to this before, although the memory didn't feel of Narnian origin. He wondered if he had lost a loved one in Spare Oom and was frightened at the fact that he simply could not remember.

Numerous family members and Narnia creatures regaled their fond memories of Aoife as the congregation listened in silence, including Susan, who told a bittersweet story of the day they had met (a day, as Edmund remembered with a dull pain in his chest, that was during his captivity with the White Witch), as well as the joyous day, now tainted by grief, that Aoife told Susan of her pregnancy.

The ceremony concluded with a Narnian farewell ballad, sung with robust vigor by the entire congregation, and Cryptos finally moved toward the small altar his wife was placed on. It was customary and respectful, Edmund had to remind himself, to watch the ritual, although he felt his knuckles go white as they gripped Peter's arm with surprising force. The centaur dropped a gentle kiss on his wife's forehead, and raised a torch that had been burning at the corner of the altar. He lowered it to the body. Edmund's vision swam with unexpected tears as a weight dropped down into his stomach. He'd never seen a centaur cry before and was sure he would never see such a sight again.

The girls were weeping and Peter had silent tears rolling down his red face, and he imagined he looked very much the same as his brother. The Narnians were beginning to disperse, but before any left the Hall, all looked on as the four monarchs paid their respects. They each laid a hand, a quivering one in Edmund's case, on the altar and knelt on one knee. Soon they were exiting with their escort, almost dazed, in the same hushed silence they had entered into, very much moved by what had occurred before them.

"Peter?" he said to his brother once more as soon as they were alone in their chambers. He couldn't seem to rid himself of the painful lump in his throat.

"It's okay, brother," Peter replied as Edmund broke down into tears, staining the shoulder of Peter's tunic, who was racked with sobs of his own. Edmund would always remember feeling that night how unkingly it was of him to cry.


	5. Chapter 5

"Arise, Wolf," Edmund said coldly. He felt an excessive anger toward the creature that had killed the innocent centauress, anger he feared he would not be able to rid before the supposedly neutral trial. He was standing at the iron-wrought bars of the wolf's cell, hidden dagger lodged firmly in place at the back of his tunic, and followed closely by his guard Marid. The being slowly unfurled itself from its curled up position on the cement floor and stood with wide eyes in the presence of the young king. He bowed slightly, and Edmund had to hold back a scowl. He wasn't sure how he had gained the reputation of the 'stoic monarch' when all his emotions seemed to be turbulent as a sea storm so close to the surface.

"What is your name?" The wolf merely stared back at him with his wide, black eyes.

"Are you able to speak, Beast of the Forest?" The wolf lowered his head and raised it.

"Luce, Your Majesty. I am not in possession of a last name, I'm afraid," he replied smoothly. Edmund's fists clenched behind his tunic at the wolf's seeming nonchalance. Did he realize the gravity of what he'd done? he thought angrily. He shook his head slightly, as if to erase the murderous thoughts roiling beneath.

"I see. Do you know why you're here, Luce?" Suddenly Edmund shivered at the memory of a long ago question that was much the same, although uttered by a far more evil being. _Do you know why you're here, faun? _ Her voice rang coldly in his ears. He changed his tone, desperately wanting his brief likeness to the haunt of his nightmares, the White Witch, _Jadis, _he thought with another shudder, to end there. He cleared his throat roughly.

"Are you aware of the crime you have been charged with?" he corrected, straightening his shoulders.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he bowed his head and Edmund thought he saw tears shining faintly in his frightening black eyes. Edmund nodded.

"Then you know that in a few days time, a trial will be held for your sentencing. We do not have the death penalty in Narnia, but I assure you this," Edmund bent to meet the narrow face of the criminal through the iron bars, determined, despite his just manner, to strike fear into the creature's cold heart, "should you be proven guilty, you will be getting the damned closest sentencing to it. You may as well wish yourself dead considering the treatment you'll be getting from my people. That centauress was one of the most beloved Narnians at Cair Paravel. I don't know what kind of evil possessed you to commit such a thing, but Aslan have mercy on your soul. Others will not be so forgiving," he finished bitterly. Luce kept his gaze averted from the king's hard expression, his head still bowed shamefully.

"Can I ask, King Edmund, what her name was?"

"You don't deserve the privilege of knowing," he spat back. As the young king strode out of the prison quarters, he felt sick with his behavior. While he still possessed immeasurable animosity towards the sinner, he was a judge, a stoic, and had never allowed his emotions to sway his treatment of the accused. But Luce was merely "the accused," he was a downright condemned soul. He had been caught in the act, cold blood stained across his lips. With that thought, Edmund was promptly sick in a patch of tulips Lucy had been growing for the past month. Marid yelped in surprise at the abruptness of it. He'd have to tell Lucy about her ruined tulips sometime. Later, rather than sooner, he considered as he wiped his mouth on a cloth provided by his guard.

"Edmund!" Susan exclaimed as he walked up the staircase that lead to the library, wishing as he had many times lately for some privacy. He saw her smiling face, followed by Lucy's blazing, joyful one, and thought that it was nice to see her happy for a change after the funeral (as well as felt a pang of guilt in regards to his younger sister and her tulip patch).

"What's up, Su?" he asked with a smile, albeit an apprehensive one, as last time she had approached him with such an expression was the day she had forced him to partake in a particularly tortuous fitting for their fifth year anniversary ball.

"Oh, it's simply wonderful, Ed, Mrs. Beaver's—"

"Lucy! Well, Ed, it was going to be a surprise, but as Lucy can't seem to keep a secret for a one second…" she looked down at her younger sister in mock reproach, and Lucy grinned impishly. She was never one for keeping secrets, especially if they were "simply wonderful."

"Am I going to have to guess at what it is you two are failing miserably to tell me?" he interjected with an amused smirk leaking across the side of his face. He was in the mood for some good news after his meeting with Luce.

"She's going to have a baby!" Lucy exclaimed loudly before clamping a hand to her mouth in surprise at her own alacrity and dissolving into giddiness.

"What?! Since when, Lu?"

"Three months ago," Susan replied with a small smile, putting a soft hand on her sister's shoulder. "They hadn't told anyone because they've had, well, difficulties before. But isn't it marvelous, Edmund?" she exclaimed in her own brand of demure enthusiasm.

"And I thought she was just getting a bit fat," he said, eliciting a light punch to his shoulder from his older sister.

"No, really, it's amazing, Susan! They must be…well, Mr. Beaver must be off his rocker by now," he admitted, and they all laughed.

"She said he nearly fainted when she told him!" Lucy giggled.

"Does Peter know?" he asked.

"He's on his way down to the dam now. He said he'd tell them congratulations for you. We all figured you'd be a bit busy for the time being," Susan said sympathetically, laying her other hand on his cheek. "We're all proud of you, Edmund. You know that, right?" Lucy had stilled herself and shot a small smile up at him.

"Thanks, Su," he replied, and the sudden weight that had disappeared in his momentary joy was now back with a vengeance upon his shoulders.

"We're on our way down to supper. Join us, please, Ed?" He hesitated, considering an hour of casual, happy exchange with his two sisters. He wanted to shake the uneasy feeling that Luce had cast over him.

"Of course," he replied with a smile that felt worryingly like to a grimace.


	6. Chapter 6

Tea. He stared into the soft caramel-colored liquid that swirled below him, wishing to submerge himself in it and ask for answers within the tea leaves. Answers to why this horrible crime had been committed and why the criminal was so remorseless and how, Aslan, how could you let this happen?

That's who he realized he wanted as he swiped his sleeve across his tired eyes. After supper, he'd stolen into the library to study for the upcoming case. With a book in his lap, he felt almost content. He had never had to helm a murder trial before and never in his wildest dreams thought he'd be a witness to the act. He supposed this happened in a nation like Calormen quite often. But in Narnia? Aslan's peace seemed to rest in the souls of the Narnians; there wasn't a murderous creature in the land, aside from the Fell Creatures, which he and Peter had dealt with in the first and second years of their reign. Yes, Aslan would be the one to soothe his fears, even better than his sisters who had tried to do the same at supper. Even better than Peter, his best friend. Where was the bloke, anyway? He should've been back from the Beavers' dam by now. He heard the dusty book spine creak with age as he pryed the pages apart.

_In accordance with the Archenland treatise on the jurisdiction of foreign parties, the_… No, no, the wolf was supposedly from Narnia, or so he had told Yellen the owl, who had interrogated Luce the night Edmund had been lying useless to his country in a dead faint. He blushed at the memory. How could he have been so weak? Why hadn't Peter pried his eyes open to serve Narnia? Oh, yes, because he was an overprotective, moronic idiot of an older brother. But, Edmund considered, he'd probably be dead now if it wasn't for Peter's apt tendencies to be an absolute mother hen.

"Hello there!" Edmund jolted from his seat, spilling the tea he had been contemplating, and his pensive questions lost in a brown splatter on red velvet carpeting beneath his feet.

"Peter!" he exclaimed in exasperation, trying to hide his relief at the presence of his older brother.

"It's only tea, Ed! Let's not cry over spilled milk," he laughed, patting a few stray brown drops from his brother's dark blue tunic.

"Well, you could've been a bit more conspicuous! Just when I think I've finally got some peace…"

"Did you want some alone time to study?" Peter sounded more serious. "I only thought…"

"No! I mean…no. Sorry, I'm just a bit…can you stay?" he asked hesitantly. Peter smiled and fell into the chair opposite Edmund.

"Well, if you insist." Edmund rolled his eyes.

"What have you got there? _History of the Judicial Processes of Narnia and Surrounding Lands…_bit of light reading, Ed?"

"Something like that. Thought I'd get a little research in, seeing as there aren't exactly murderers running rampant in Narnia."

"Thank Aslan for that, brother. Otherwise we'd be as irritable as the Tisroc."

"Is irritable the word we're using for it, then? I always liked having a bit more colorful vocabulary for the man."

"You know, I'm not sure if we would have nearly as many allies if they heard what you sound like as anyone other than 'Edmund the Diplomat.'" Edmund chuckled.

"Peter, my temper is better than yours on a bad day."

"_Repressed_, you mean, my brother. You have not known the joy of letting loose on a few unsuspecting foreign diplomats until you have learned not to, as they say, keep it all inside."

"Me, Peter, repressed? Have you forgotten…" he paused in embarrassment. "Well, I won't mention it."

"Oh no, do tell, Ed," he replied with a smirk playing upon his face. Edmund remained in stubborn silence. "Or can I guess it? Let's see, if it's not naiads, it must be that poor bloke from Calormen who sent out that marriage proposal to Lucy. "

"She was twelve!" he exclaimed abruptly, getting a few whispers to 'shush up already' from the unsuspecting assemblage of owls researching a few feet away. More whispers and agitated wing flurries came from the group once they noticed just who the person they were reprimanding was.

"Oh, you blasted, wing-flapping idiot!" they heard before the owls eventually dispersed. Peter and Edmund exchanged small smiles, trying to hide their laughter as they watched the owls bicker on their way out.

"Speaking of owls, Ed, if you don't want to be at the trial, we can always ask Yellen to do it."

"Of course I'll judge the trial, Peter! What kind of king, nevermind _judge_, would I be if I called it quits because it got difficult?" Peter merely shrugged in response. "And besides," he continued, "I'm obligated. Supreme Judge, remember? This case is the first of its kind in Narnia, during our reign, at least, and I'm expected to be there."

"I was only suggesting, if you weren't…"

"Up to it? I'm not sickly, Peter. You were only suggesting to coddle me, and, if you haven't noticed, I'm sixteen now! I can look after myself," he finished irritably, feeling like a right beast for saying so.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Edmund," Peter said callously and turned to leave. Edmund huffed, the previous color receding from his face.

"Peter…" he said, too quietly to be heard by his brother as he continued out of the candlelit library into the dark corridor, leaving Edmund in a sort of grim content as he curled back into his book. He would be a king and attend to his duties, whether Peter thought he could or not, he insisted, although he knew that Peter believed he could do anything. He was just scared for him and Edmund couldn't figure out why.

Aslan came to him in his dreams that night.

_He was back in the forest again, only this time, he was devoid of Philip's company. He was approaching the clearing; he could feel his blood turning cold, icy tendrils creeping through his veins. When he tread into the treeless patch of land, he looked around in apprehension of what he knew was about to occur here. But nothing happened aside from a rustle in the leaves. _

_It was true, the trees were silent once more as he watched the Golden Lion approached. But it wasn't an eerie or malicious silence intended to cause him fear. It was peace. Aslan breathed on them as he seemed to float toward the young king. _

"_Aslan?" Edmund wanted to rush forward into the mane of the King of Kings, but something held him back. _

"_Do not fear the decisions you must make, Edmund," he said from afar. "Trust yourself." He vanished, leaving in his wake, cold once more. _

"_Edmund, how nice to see you," a saccharine voice cooed from his shoulder. He jerked his head to the side. "It's been so long." Jadis' blue lips lifted briefly before suddenly flattening in a grim, fierce line. Pain that he hadn't felt since the Battle of Beruna, five long years ago, came rushing back into his abdomen, with it bringing back the menacing memories. He was on the ground, silent. Where was his family? Where was Lucy with her cordial? Blood slipped through his fingers and nausea curdled his insides as the gray face of a wolf came into sight. _

_Now he would die, he thought bleakly, staring up at the condemned. _

"_Luce!" he gasped. _

"_King Edmund, what happened?" he asked in amazement, those black, all-encompassing eyes taking stock of his wound. He sounded as innocent as a child in his question. _

"_Please…don't…"_

"_I can make it go away. If you stay still. Your Majesty?" Luce's words were running together in his head. He could make sense of it but somehow followed his orders and stopped squirming on the grass. Luce lowered his head, and Edmund felt a sucking sensation in the wound. He cried out briefly, then felt the hole in his skin began knitting itself together. Luce lifted his head, blood staining his teeth. _

"_Is it gone?" he asked. _

Edmund woke, sweating bullets into the sheets, and his first reaction was to look to his brother, who no doubt would be rushing over any minute to soothe his fears. But somehow, he had missed it, missed the noises of panic and distress coming from his bed, and perhaps they were out of sync with each other. However, all Edmund knew was that he was uneasy and uncertain of what he had just seen. And he didn't want to spend the night alone.

"Hey, Pete?" he whispered. There was no response. He lifted the covers and clambered in next to his brother. Peter bristled momentarily, and then opened his bleary eyes.

"Bad dream?" he slurred, and his brother nodded back. Peter moved closer, putting a soft hand on Edmund's head as he had when they were children.

"Go to sleep, Ed. You're okay," he reassured, and Edmund closed his eyes as the meaning of his dream eluded his grasp.


	7. Chapter 7

"King Edmund," a low murmur met his ear with caution as he was roused to consciousness. He remembered tumbling quietly out of Peter's bed and with light steps made his way down to the library. And fallen asleep once more in the throes of _History of the Judicial_…and whatever drivel made up the rest of the title. As much as he had tried to waste himself away in the maneuvers and loopholes of the law, he would always be brought back to reality, and this was his wake up call. This evening, the case would be presented in front of the court, and the pews would no doubt be full as the trial was no longer a dwarven land dispute but a cold-blooded murder case.

He wished dearly that he could keep the witnesses to a minimum, as no doubt emotions would run high in the court chambers, but he supposed it was the Narnians' prerogative to see to it that justice would be carried out. It was with a lack of passion and heavy limbs that he pried himself from the soft chair that seemed to swallow him whole whenever he sat himself in it. He nodded in appreciation, a tad abashedly, to the satyr who had prodded him from his nap and made his way to the stables.

"King Edmund!" A small dog yipped at his feet excitedly as he entered stable that was alive with chatter, unusual so early in the morning.

"Well, hullo, Calliope. What's got your tail so perked up this morning?"

"King Edmund, are you going to judge today?" The young puppy asked him as he craned his head, careful to not tread on the overbearing pup, in search of Philip who, for all he knew about the horse's tacit love life, could have spent the night with Alia. He hoped that wasn't the case, as it would be quite awkward if he chanced upon the couple.

"Why, yes, I am. Where's your mother, Calliope?"

"She's on an errand with Merrin," Calliope answered, giggling at her own rhyme. "Is that guy gonna die at the Stone Table?" Edmund temporarily froze up at the reference before remembering just who he was talking to.

"Um, are you sure you're mother is out, Calliope?"

"Yes," she answered exasperatedly. "All of my brothers are telling me that wolf guy is gonna die for what he did to Aoife. Are you going to kill him, too, King Edmund? Well, are you?"

"Brothers are often very mistaken," he smiled fondly at the young dog. "Now, do you think I would do a thing like that?"

"No. But you kill people in battle. Don't you?"

"Trust your instincts, Calliope." He took her small body into his hands and brought her back to her brothers who were wrestling in a corner of the barn. They stilled when they caught sight of him.

"Goodbye, little Calliope. Remember what I said," he smiled and she barked with happiness that she was able to hold a secret over her brothers. They stared at her in awe and fraternal envy. His eyebrows narrowed in concern that Calliope had said such things, especially at her age. Is that what people were expecting of him? Avenging a murder with murder? He quickly shook the train of thought; it was merely the talk of babes. Although Edmund was shaken over his conversation with the pup, he continued on in pursuit of Philip, trying not to notice the silence that seemed to arise in the groups of prattling animals as he passed. He had a duty to perform. And a horse to express his gratitude towards.

Once he had left Philip and his blushing girlfriend (if horses could blush, that was exactly what Alia was doing) to their, erm, thoughts, he made his way to his and Peter's bedchambers to change into more courtly clothing, as well as clothing that held significantly less barn stench. Much to his surprise, Lucy was lurking behind the door. He yelped in surprise, another tick on his 'unkingly' tally he had been racking up as of late.

"By Aslan, Lucy, the fact that I don't have gray hairs by now is nothing short of miracle. What's up?" She smiled in mischievous embarrassment, an expression not foreign to her face.

"Sorry, Ed. I only wanted to give you something before the trial." She held up a necklace with a shining red and gold pendant of the Great Lion attached. "Mr. Tumnus gave it to me at our coronation. I thought you might like it. Not that you need luck or anything," she gave a small giggle and Edmund couldn't help but smile and join in the levity Lucy was encouraging.

"Well, thanks a lot, Lu. But I don't think I want to appear in front of the entire Narnia court with a girl's necklace. They might think it a bit…undignified," he said in a sardonic whisper, and Lucy pursed her lips teasingly.

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I'll just have to give it to Peter before your next battle. Or Susan on her birthday. Or even to Oreius, I'm sure _he'd_ accept a simple…"

"Alright, alright, Lu, I accept!" he laughed and bowed his head so she would be able to put it on his neck.

"Thank you, m'lady," he bowed mockingly as the Aslan pendant swung from his neck.

"Why, you're ever so welcome!" she laughed and latched her hands around the back of his neck and folded him in a small embrace.

"Be brave, Ed," she pursed her lips with wide eyes as she stood back from him.

"Thanks, Lu." And with that, she left.

Edmund sat on the corner of his neatly made bed with a black and silver tunic hanging loosely from his body. He somehow had never felt uncomfortable in his Narnian clothes. Well, they were the finest woven threads in the nation, but he had never felt ridiculous in leggings and colorful tunics, unless those colors had been chosen by Susan, he thought wryly. He remembered his clothes from Spare Oom vaguely. Ill-fitting knickers, he believed they called him, and itchy collared shirts he had never quite gotten used to. But Narnia fit him perfectly, as if he had always belonged there and always would. As if they had been born for this land.

"Edmund?" A soft baritone came into the room. He knew Peter's voice anywhere, it was one of the most familiar things in the world to him, a sign of home.

"Here," he called, although he knew full well that his brother could see him from the doorway. His bright blond locks were combed neatly into place; clearly his faun valet, Cillan, had gotten a hold of him.

"Is that Lucy's necklace?" he asked suspiciously, and Edmund rolled his eyes.

"She gave it to me as a gift. A good luck charm. I suppose she thought I'd need it," he smirked faintly.

"Listen, Edmund, if you want to talk about anything, about that night…I've never really outright said it but…"

"Oh shut up, you sod," Edmund stopped him. "Sit down, Pete. As a matter of fact, I have been seeking my confidant," he said truthfully. "And since you look an awful lot like him…"

"Oh, shut up. I was going to say that I've never outright said that you're a real git, but now that you've interrupted me…" he paused. "Go on, Ed, what's eating you?"

"You're making me _feel_ like a git now, but all right. Pete, d'you remember that dream I had last night?" His brother nodded.

"It was about Luce. The wolf," he hesitated, not sure how to go on. "It was…strange. I—Aslan was there and he told me to trust myself, or something like that. And then…" Inexplicable tears filled his eyes and he stopped once more. "Listen, Pete, it's getting close to the trial, and I just can't talk about it right now. I'll just…go down to the court chambers, then," he finished dejectedly.

"Ed, come on, you know you can tell me anything. Sit back down."

"Later, Pete," he said dolefully. "I can't have anything distracting me right now. It's too important." For Cryptos. For Narnia. His dream had been a fluke, surely. He wasn't going to let a simple nightmare stop him from performing his kingly duties.


	8. Chapter 8

He imagined all of the Cair was quiet now, empty air whooshing through the unoccupied chambers and filling the rest of the castle with serene, rippling breaths. The court, however, was bottled up emotion and anticipation. Edmund felt like a small hammer was pounding behind the base of his neck.

The court chambers were filled to the brim with every creature imaginable. Ravens and robins flittered across the high ceilings, gryphons settled their sprawling wings on the packed benches, centaurs lined both the back of the courtroom as those closer to Aoife filled the front. Edmund strode past all of them, his eyes singularly on the oak chair and desk set at the front of the room. He felt Peter's tight grasp on his shoulder as they approached the front row and thought that he must've gone to stand with Oreius.

His dark eyes surveyed the claustrophobic room as it buzzed with motion as soon as he sat in his stiff-backed judge's chair. Susan and Lucy were sat next to the Beavers, hands clasped together tightly. Cryptos was staring a hard line towards Luce. Then there was the wolf himself. Luce, not bound by shackles but guarded by trained eyes by every soldier in the room, had his eyes on no one but Edmund, and the young king tried desperately to ignore this fact. His eyes were not pleading or hateful, merely…curious? Edmund couldn't be sure what mystery that wolf held, but this wasn't the trial to find out. No, this trial was about someone else, one with a conscience. He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to gather his bearings.

"Creatures of Narnia, order, please!" he raised his voice over the din, and his subjects fell silent almost immediately.

"Let the proceedings of the trial begin, then," he nodded to Rorim, the court transcripter, and then to Milonius, a satyr trained extensively in law who began to list the evidence of the case in a detached drone. This would be the entire first day; no objections or rebuttals, and no cases to be made. Simply cold, hard evidence. And yet he felt the pain in his head double under the gaze of the accused.

"…when said centaur ordered a sweep of the area, no creatures of Narnia, nor creatures of any other kind or nation were to be found. The Talking Horse hereafter known as Philip clarified this in his witness interview. King Edmund the Just, His Majesty, was incapacitated from approximately this moment on…" Edmund tried to keep the blush from creeping up his neck at this satyr's cold analysis of the event and succeeded in keeping his stern expression directed solely towards Milonius. His senses were heightened. Luce's relentless stare, a meticulous faun's scratch of the quill as he drew sketches (that would be famous for centuries thereafter) of the courtroom and dignified monarchs within, the weight of Lucy's pendant upon his neck, Susan's silent tears as the sight of Aoife was described in shocking detail (detail he would have objected to in the presence of ladies, if not for the strict practices of the courtroom and his own shock as he was absorbed by memories of that night), Calliope the pup's fidgeting somewhere in the center of the courtroom (what was one so young doing there, anyway?). The pulse of blood ran heavy in his ears, just as the surging red liquid had fled from Aoife's body that night. The room of Narnians shifted in emotion with every detail Milonius provided, from grief to horror to hatred.

When court adjourned, he had said little, yet the emotion in the room had increased his headache to a full-blown migraine. Luce's unwavering gaze was now blurry as he met it, and he stumbled uncertainly from his chair as Narnians began to flee the room in a cacophony of shocked conversation. Dazed, he watched Luce guided out by an escort of muscled centaurs and satyrs once the court chambers had been emptied. His head throbbed with each step he took toward his waiting siblings.

"King Edmund, it is time to leave," a deep bass entered his dim thoughts. He tried to nod, but it was painful to even attempt such a menial feat. He winced. He thought Peter's hand was back on his shoulder as he began the march out to the corridor, but he couldn't look around to see. It was as if a large, irritable creature had been unleashed inside his head, and now it was tumbling around, exploring the most painful parts of his skull.

"Pete?"

"Ed, are you alright?" Peter asked him from afar.

"I don't…know," he replied with a grimace. They were surely in their bed chambers by now; it seemed so long since court had adjourned.

"Almost to the corridor now, Edmund, just stay with us," Susan said soothingly from behind her. She sounded as if she were masking concern.

"Pete…I don't think I'm alright," Edmund said as something bright entered his vision and the pain spiked to a climax. His brother's grasp tightened, and he felt his head being shoved into Peter's shoulder.

"It's okay, Ed, just don't look at the light. Focus on me. Oreius, can you clear a path?" Each step sent a throb through his body. They continued to trudge forward, and he felt his feet began to drag.

"Lie down, Edmund, it's alright." It most certainly did not feel alright. His breathing sped up in panic as a wave of pain crashed over his skull once more. Someone was stroking his hair, while another gently removed his boots.

Edmund felt a light breeze float into the room, lifting his eyelids and returning his senses. He glanced over at his brother, blonde hair fanned haphazardly across his forehead and pillow, and his body taking up more than his fair share of the bed as it was splayed on top of the covers. Edmund acquiesced to a small grin at the sight, despite the memory of his dreams that night. They were all of a blur of Aslan and the imprisoned wolf and Aoife. He felt he was still trying to decipher his recent dreams, no matter the extent to which he was trying to dismiss them from his mind. He heard a muffled groan, and his lump of a brother stirred.

"Ed? What are you doing up?" he asked in a slightly slurred, bleary cadence. His raven-haired brother shrugged and moved to lift himself off the bed, only to be restrained by his brother.

"Stay," he said with finality. "You were really out of it last night, you know that?" Peter demanded, and Edmund thought he heard a hint of irritation in his voice.

"What's eating you, Pete?" he reciprocated. Peter pressed his lips together, his jaw grating together furiously.

"Nothing, Edmund. But you're not getting out of bed this morning, alright? You have no idea what we went through last night," he said sternly. Edmund's eyebrows narrowed.

"What happened last night?" Peter sighed, and his features softened.

"Why don't you tell _me_, Ed? Were you sick all day and hiding it for the trial? Because if you were, I swear to Aslan that I'm calling Yellen and…"

"No! It just came on all of a sudden. I must have…eaten something strange or…"

"Bollocks, Ed! This trial is stressing you out, and I have more than half a mind to just stop it altogether. You shouldn't be involved; you were _there_, for Aslan's sake, isn't there some Narnian law that says a witness can't preside over the case?"

"Actually, yes. But I _didn't_ see it, Pete, and that's the point. No one knows what really happened. For all I know, we could be holding an innocent wolf in that jail cell and…" he allowed himself a breath. "I don't know anymore."

"You don't know what anymore?" Peter asked, his eyes narrowing into two small, blue almond shaped things.

"Nothing," Edmund shook his head. "I don't know anything anymore," he whispered to himself, although by the puzzled look on his brother's face, he was sure Peter had heard him. The dreams…so vivid. They were so _real_. Aslan was trying to tell him something was wrong. He wasn't protecting Narnia the way he should. And that thought frightened him more than anything.


End file.
